


Arms Race

by pyrrhic_victoly



Series: Arms Race [2]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou
Genre: Bad Puns, Conrad's arms shall rule the world, Crack, Demonic Possession, F/M, Fourth Wall, Gen, Genre Savvy, In-Jokes, M/M, Other, Wolfram is a Parody Sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-11
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhic_victoly/pseuds/pyrrhic_victoly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuri accidentally starts a war in exchange for a 90 in biology, Conrad mutates in awesome ways, and Wolfram's character is destroyed by fangirls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Arm's Way

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. _What's_ their new super-weapon?"

"A gene mutation cannon," Josak said with a shrug.

Yuuri gaped at him, utterly confused. How had Dai Shimaron managed to create something as scientifically advanced as that? All the rusty logic circuits in his brain were screaming that the atomic bomb came before things like _gene mutation cannons_. More importantly, how did the people in this world know about genetics when indoor plumbing was still considered a luxury? Things like _gene mutation cannons_ happened in sci-fi, and the genre of Yuuri's life was definitely fantasy. Or at least he thought so, anyway, given that he hadn't seen any crop circles or cattle mutilations yet. (Anal probing was an entirely different matter, and one that still made him slightly uncomfortable being in Gwendal's presence after the horrific scene he'd walked into that fateful day in Anissina's lab… Speaking of which, Gwendal was glaring over at him right now.)

Huh. Maybe he was just hearing things wrong. Morgif hadn't turned out to be Mel Gibson, after all, even if they were similar in some ways, like both being horrible womanizers way past their prime. Sometimes Yuuri imagined that if Morgif could speak in anything other than groans, he would have a Scottish accent. But that was another subject entirely.

"So, um, what will the cannon do?"

Josak stroked his chin as he tried to explain. "I'm not much of a scientist, but from what I got out of the blueprints and conversations with the researchers, a group of mages has to charge up the houseki in the power source, and then it's supposed to shoot a highly concentrated beam of ionized molecules at the target. Gamma rays, I think. Yeah, so the gamma ray radiation passes through the body's cells and mutates it. Now, normally this would just damage the DNA in your cells and increase your risk of getting cancer, but since the radiation is being guided by houjutsu, the mages control what kinds of mutations they're gonna give you. They could use it to create genetically enhanced soldiers to bolster their own ranks, or they could just wheel that baby out and zap us directly; turn us all into piles of irradiated demon-goo. They're beginning tests on both options right as we speak."

A cancer beam!

Yuuri's mouth flapped open and closed for a few seconds as he tried to find something intelligent to say. It was hard, though, because all he could think was, "You're a liar, Josak Gurrier! You totally understand this science stuff, and you've secretly been in cahoots with Anissina all this time!" But Yuuri couldn't very well say _that_ , because if he thought about Anissina, then he would think about Gwendal, and if he thought about Josak and Gwendal, all he could think about was how Josak, having the proper equipment, didn't need any inventions to get down and dirty for some anal probing.

Yuuri resolved to get himself checked for mental health issues once he got back to Earth, like maybe PTSD or schizophrenia, but in the meantime, he really had nothing to say.

Luckily, Gwendal was there to save him in a way that the grumpy general wasn't able to save his own tush. Gwendal frowned, as always, and did that little growly thing he did when he was uber-pissed. "Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his palms on the desk. "We were too careless to have allowed this to happen!"

"It's not like we knew this was going to happen… Eh… Waitaminute. Did you actually understand all that science-y stuff with the radiation gamma ion something? You guys… actually know what DNA is?"

Gwendal glowered darkly, which was good because this was his normal look. At least he wasn't doing something completely out of character, like giggling, which he only did when he was high off noxious fumes or had various wires and metal tubes inserted in his… No, no. Never mind.

"Of course," Gwendal said, shaking Yuuri out of his barf-inducing reverie. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at your confusion, regardless of the fact that it was you who introduced such knowledge into our world."

"What? How is this my fault?"

"Oh, boy…" Josak sighed and scratched the back of his head, then said with a lop-sided grin, "It was all in that book you lost while on your latest camping trip near the border, Your Majesty. Someone must have picked it up and sold it to the enemy, because they had cryptographers decode your language and then… Well, that was the start of this mess."

"You should never have brought such dangerous materials out on a pleasure trip!" Gwendal said.

"I had to study for my biology exam!"

Really, how the hell was he supposed to have known that a high school biology textbook could lead to a cancer beam? It wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. Yuuri mentally cursed at his bad luck. In exchange for that 90%, he had started a war. And on top of that, he'd also had to pay a fee for losing the damn book!

"Aw, crap…" Yuuri resisted the urge to slam his head into the wall, deciding instead to focus on the situation at hand. "Anyway, we should probably figure out what to do with this. Do you know where the testing is going on, Josak?"

"I believe some tests were conducted on prisoners, but I also heard that they were going to start on some border towns in Shin Makoku. That's why I rushed back, actually. I had to make up some excuse about going back to Cavalcade to help my aunt take care of her cats while she went out with her new boyfriend."

 _More like guarding your "aunt's" pet cats from becoming potions ingredients for her "boyfriend's" experiments while her "boyfriend" went all out on your "aunt's" ass!_ The minute he thought this, Yuuri backtracked and refused to believe that he'd thought this. He recoiled. Then his mind did this:

AOIDFJS;AFDSKJADAIOSFJN

When he snapped back into reality, Gwendal and Josak were already hashing out plans to alert Conrad, who was on patrol near the border towns. Yes, Yuuri thought, Conrad would take care of the situation, and everything would be fine.

All Yuuri had to do now was maintain his sanity and try not to get distracted when walking behind Gwendal. Or better yet, not walk behind Gwendal at all.


	2. Handstanding Grandstanding

It was a brilliant spring day out in Kentenau, a farming settlement near the Dai Shimaron border. Conrad leaned against a tree trunk as he surveyed his men helping the villagers set up a new grain silo.

Conrad had always been fond of Kentenau… Wait. No, he hadn't. But at least he'd started to like the place 20 years ago, which was long enough to be considered "always". Before that, the land had belonged to Dai Shimaron, and it had actually been a rather sizable city populated with humans who liked to chuck rocks at demons. Everyone agreed that Kentenau had been much improved since Shin Makoku's army had razed it down to the ground in a victorious blaze of glory. For one thing, all the rock-chuckers had relocated across the new border – the new border that everyone said was better than the old border because it favored Shin Makoku.

Yes, this was a fine town indeed, Conrad thought. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of leaning against something, for on a peaceful day such as this, nothing could go wrong.

_Boom!_

"YeeeaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

A little girl was out in the middle of the dirt path that cut through the heart of the settlement. Conrad immediately bolted to her side. She ran into his arms, sobbing.

"Hey there, it's all right. Tell me what's wrong, miss."

"M-muh-my dog-!" she wailed, pointing toward a smoking pile of ashes off to the side.

Conrad absently patted her on the head and went to check out this strange phenomenon. There was a large, circular patch, nearly ten feet in diameter, where the grass had been vaporized. Charcoal-like soot radiated out from the center, which was vaguely dog-shaped, though that was about it. Well, there was also a clump of something that could possibly be fur – if one squinted and looked at it sideways, and if fur was slightly oozy – near where the tail ought to be, but nothing else to indicate that this had once been a dog. As a matter of fact, the entire thing gave off a scent like burnt roasting marshmallows.

Really burnt marshmallows.

Really, _really_  burnt marshmallows.

"Waaah~ he just went to fetch the stick, poor Rocky~ waaaaaaaah~," the girl was saying. Her parents and various soldiers and villagers were starting to crowd around, whispering furiously. Conrad spied the stick nearby and used it to poke at the ashes.

How strange... Dogs were not supposed to spontaneously combust. It was only the Engiwaru Birds that exploded in a rain of ash and feathers when they died, letting out one last cry of "Bad omen! Bad omen! For real this time!" before showering everyone below them with red-hot cinders that ate into flesh and melted eyeballs. Everyone agreed that it was very considerate of them to give this warning so that victims would have a few seconds to rush out of the blast site. There were countless stories of men and women who would have died horrible, burning deaths had it not been for the Engiwaru Bird's noble call. Instead, they were only forced to live out their extremely long Mazoku lives in excruciating pain with one melted eyeball and third degree burns all over their backs.

A dog exploding in such a way, however, just didn't make sense! The little girl was lucky she had a good throwing arm.

Conrad was about to call his men over to help investigate when he heard the clip-clop of horses and the creaking of wheels coming from downhill. Was a wagon approaching? He stood up and put a hand on his sword hilt, motioning with his other hand for his men to get into position. They had to be cautious, for this was the last town in Shin Makoku. The road down that way led to the river, and beyond that, to Dai Shimaron.

The soldiers formed a line in front of the civilians. They watched with wary eyes as a tarp-covered cart appeared down the road. A group of cloaked men and women rode alongside their cart; their heads were lowered, and their hands were hidden beneath heavy robes.

"Halt!" Conrad commanded. "State your business and present your papers."

There was an eerie silence, an absence of motion from the hooded travelers. Then, as one, the entire group dismounted from their steeds and raised their hands as if to show that they were unarmed. Turning to one of his men, Conrad waved the soldier over and instructed him to inspect the cart.

"Yes sir," the soldier mumbled. He saluted before jogging over to the cart, though he mumbled something like, "Why does the commander always pick on me? Just because I mumble..."

The tense stand-off continued, broken only by the soldier's mumbles of, "Fuckin' tarp… How do you get this thing off?" and "What's with these human creeps? Why are they just standing there?" He shuffled around, undoing the fastenings. "If this turns out to be a shipment of blueberries, I'm gonna die of boredom, mumble mumble." The soldier, deeply engrossed in his work and his mumbling, didn't notice the minute shifts in the humans around him. "Weller's troops are supposed to get all the action, mumble grumble." He didn't notice when the hooded figures, their palms still raised, began to glow, nor did he notice his commander's cries for him to watch out. "When are we getting some action? I hate blueberries, mumbo-jumbo-de-grumble… WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!"

It was a cannon. Two seconds after the first time the mumbling soldier managed to speak clearly, he was tragically blasted by the weapon he had uncovered.

"You fiends!" Conrad shouted. "Mumbles hates blueberries! How dare you turn him into one!"

That was all the incentive that was needed for the soldiers to draw their blades. "For Mumbles!" they cried, charging at the mages.

But once they were half-way to the enemy, the soldiers dropped to their knees, screaming in pain at the sudden activation of a massive amount of houseki. Only Conrad was left standing, being unaffected due to his human blood, and he let out a bestial roar as he charged at the mages.

Slice! Hack! Pwn! He felled his opponents one by one.

In the ensuing panic, the civilians stampeded back toward their homes. There was an awful lot of screaming, though Conrad paid it no heed, having his sights set on destroying the cannon.

The mages had dropped their high-and-mighty mysterious act once they started getting cut down. "Fire!" their leader shouted. "Aim at Weller!"

Without concentrating on guiding the cannon with houjutsu, the blasts were unpredictable. The few shots they'd put out after the start of the battle had reduced a few of the Mazoku soldiers into radioactive cinders, much like the remains of Rocky the dog, though without the nice marshmallow scent. However, one unfortunate soldier had his legs explode from under him in a shower of meat-confetti.

Now they were aiming at Conrad. He ducked and weaved out of their path, barely escaping before the grass behind him would melt like plastic or erupt into a mass of squirming tentacles. The tentacles had very… interesting… bulbous tips…

But. Then he saw her.

"No!" Conrad dove toward the little girl, knocking her out of the way. "Argh!" He'd been hit! The beam smacked him right in the chest! With the last of his strength, Conrad threw his sword. It sped through the air and sliced clean through the leader's forehead.

He'd done it; he'd broken their command. The mages were hurriedly retreating as Conrad shakily got up, thinking all the while that it was a miracle he hadn't been incinerated like the others.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked the little girl, brushing the blueberry goop off his hands before offering one to her.

"No!" She smacked his hand away.

Well that was rude, Conrad thought. Here he was, risking his life to save her, and she couldn't even be polite.

"Th-th-the blueberry man! I was trying to save him and you squished him!"

Conrad looked over then, and saw what remained of Mumbles. Jam-like burbles of pain were coming out from what had once been a mouth on the man-sized fruit. They got quieter and quieter, until a last few gasping mumbles came out of the giant blueberry's mouth. Alas, it was too late to save him. His mutation (and definitely not the squish-related injury) was too much to live with, and he expired.

Oops.

She was still rude, though.

"Don't worry about Mumbles," Conrad said reassuringly. "We'll roll him back to town and he'll be fine. See? The others are coming back, and the doctor is with them. I'm sure it'll-" Conrad stopped his train of thought as he felt a strange rippling sensation against his skin. He paused to stroke his chest, frowning when he realized that this was the same place he'd been hit by that odd weapon. He hoped that it was just heartburn.

_SPLORTCH!_

Conrad screamed as an arm ripped its way out of his chest.

He screamed some more when an arm ripped out from his side, and then the villagers were all screaming, too. They had just gotten rid of an attack, only to be faced with their savior turning into a many-armed monstrosity.

As for Conrad, he was in deep pain. There were arms growing out of his back, and arms growing out of his legs. There were even arms growing out of his arms, which were growing out of his arms. Which were growing out of his arms. And so on and so forth.

He was covered in arms; covered so completely that they blocked his vision because they were also growing upwards from his neck. He was a ball of arms. He couldn't even walk. When he tried to walk, he did handstands.

It totally sucked.


	3. A Chink in the Armor

Yuuri went to sleep with gum in his mouth, and when he woke up, there was gum in his hair. Not only that, but there was an angelic-looking blond bishounen naked in bed with him. Right away, he could tell that it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Wolfram had always tossed and turned when he slept, which, when he was younger, his mother had insisted was the cutest, most darling thing ever, like a sleepy kitten being put between two pancakes, covered in syrup, and then farted out by a unicorn. Baby Wolfram had rolled all over the place, and every time he rolled out of his crib, out into the hall, and into a guard, the guard would say, "Aww~ Little Wolfy is the most kawaii baby in the whole world!"

When Wolfram got to be a little bigger, he entered his Selfish Poo stage, which was even more adorable-er than before. "Iyaaa~n," the other children of the nobility would squeal as he walked by. He would set their toys on fire and then boss them around, even give them a big ol' bitchslap trying to steal their butterflies, and they would say, "Watashi would love to be the bride of the only bishounen who makes watashi's kokoro go doki doki! Watashi would be the most shiawase person in the whole sekai if Boruframu-chan wanted to get kekkon-ed!"

Nowadays, Wolfram's animal magnetism had grown even stronger, since it had all devolved into a big pile of incoherent babbling. Whenever the subject of the gorgeous Prince Pooh-bear came up, one of the maids would sigh and say something like, "この電話はおいしいですね?" And the others would reply, "もちろん! 私たちは何も知らないよ!"

Such was the power of the Wolfram.

Currently, Wolfram's heels were repeatedly slamming into Yuuri's kidneys in the cutest way possible, like a sugary-sweet, limp-wristed flirty slap-match between new lovers.

"Teehee~!" Wolfram's heels said to Yuuri's kidneys. "Love tap, love tap!"

"Nooo~, stop that~!" Yuuri's kidneys said to Wolfram's heels.

It was just like that, except with the addition of searing pain. As Yuuri tried to disentangle himself, he had the sinking feeling that he was going to end up pissing blood again.

Yuuri sighed as he got on with his normal morning routine. Washing up, breakfast… When he made it to his office that afternoon, he found that he couldn't seem to concentrate much on anything because his mind was racing with so many other problems. There was the impending war, and the Gwendal thing, and a whole mess of unresolved issues that he was sure would spring from these. On top of that, Wolfram was acting more bratty than usual. There had been a period where he had gotten better, but lately he'd regressed, and Yuuri couldn't figure out why.

After pulling one of the documents down from the stack marked "URGENT", Yuuri absent-mindedly scribbled his signature on the bottom. He set that one aside, picked up another, and was about to sign that one, too, when the door opened and Wolfram strode in looking as cute as a button on a cupcake with sprinkles and pink frosting on top being cuddled by small children singing Kumbaya around a campfire. Flowers, sparkles, and bubbles trailed along behind him to denote how absolutely breathtakingly beautiful he was. He twinkled more than a faux-vampire in the sun, it was so fucking blinding.

Yuuri immediately looked down and pretended to be engrossed in his work. What he had been about to sign without reading, he now poured all his concentration into understanding. The document turned out to be Tax Code 449-A, "Thy provincial Lord or Lady shall haveth the righte to collect-eth up to fifteene percente of all revenues pertaining to sales of minde-altering drugs, including but not limited to bear-bee dung-bombe shooters. This shall hitherto-forth be knowne as a 'Vice Taxe'. Lords and Ladies shall Vice Taxeth at thine own discretion, eth eth eth," or something along those lines. Yuuri's knowledge of written Mazoku language was still shaky, and he had no idea what an 'eth' was supposed to be. It was probably a good thing that he hadn't gotten around to signing that one, because who knows how many laws he had passed without actually understanding what they said? He probably shouldn't have trusted Gwendal and Gunter so implicitly, but now was not the time to think about that.

"Would you like some tea, Yuuri," Wolfram demanded in his cute tsundere way. It was not a question, but a demand.

"N-no thanks," Yuuri said. He glanced up to confirm that Wolfram had already brought in a tea set, and then quickly looked back down.

Wolfram frowned in the most stunning way. His eyes flashed with rage so cute it was like staring into the barrel of a gun and being shot with the cuteness essence of five million bunnies in five million paper cups, all twitching their tiny bunny noses all at once.

"Would. You. Like. Some. Tea." Keeping his brilliant emerald crystal orb-eyes fixed on Yuuri the whole time, Wolfram poured a cup of tea and roughly pushed it toward his fiancé. It was an action so filled with love and beauty that it would have stunned even Cupid into shooting himself in the foot.

The tea sloshed over the document Yuuri was working on, which he thought was kind of a jerk move on Wolfram's part, even if it saved him from having to read about boring and inconsequential changes to Tax Code 449-A… There was no way Yuuri could avoid this confrontation now, so he tried to give his most believable excuse. "I'm not thirsty right now, but thanks. I'll have some later."

Hoping that Wolfram had given up, Yuuri set the ruined document aside and picked up another, which turned out to be Naturalization Form SM0003, "Foreigne persons borne of Shin Makoku citizens shall be granted citizenship with-out further questioning. Foreigne persons not borne of Shin Makoku citizens must firste answereth these questions before thy provincial Lord or Lady: Dost thou hateth Daemons? If granted citizenship, wouldst thou be willing to lay downe thy life in service of thy new countree? Is not our moste beloved Daemon King the sexiest thing thou hast ever laid-eth eyes upon, yea or nay? How much wouldst thou give in order to 'tap that' in regards to our moste beloved Daemon King?"

_Damn you, Gunter!_

Yuuri picked up the giant red "VETO" stamp and smashed it down on the parchment.

_Crunch!_

"What the…? Paper doesn't make that kind of sound…"

Wolfram's bloody hands were gripping the broken shards of the teapot's handle, his fist raised and shaking above the desk and the rest of the teapot below it. His life's essence dripped onto the edges of Naturalization Form SM0003, painting a gleaming swath of deepest carmine, more beautiful and more red than a bouquet of roses drizzled with glue and dipped in rubies. He then conveyed his love for the Maou as obviously as he could: "Drink the tea, Yuuri."

Yuuri was a dumbass and didn't get it.

"Why are you so insistent about the tea? What's with the tea?" Yuuri eyed the brown liquid suspiciously, and then up at Wolfram's hands. He looked a bit queasy as he said, "Don't you think you should go see Gisela for a bandage?"

"Drink. The. Tea," Wolfram gritted out. The grinding sound his teeth made was like that of a teeny tiny puppy scratching at the door to be let out because it had to go wee-wee.

"You know, Wolf, the more you insist on this, the less I wanna do it."

"It's not poison, if that's what you're asking." Wolfram narrowed his eyes and adopted a sneer cuter than a lolcat who no wants cheezburger. "Trust a wimp like you to think I would go so far as that!"

Multiple theories raced through Yuuri's mind, including the crazy notion that the tea really was a poison. He was about to dump the drink into the potted plant by the door just to see what would happen, but was interrupted by a knock.

"Come in," Yuuri quickly called out. He desperately shifted his attention to the newcomer, and thus completely missed Wolfram crawling into the corner, mumbling to himself about how now he would have to angst about this development for at least five chapters. Yuuri failed to notice Wolfram adorably contemplating suicide by slicing his baby-soft alabaster skin with the porcelain shards of the teapot handle. Rhythmically, and to the beat of some strange Earth song called My Immortal. It was all very dramatic.

Gunter strode in and bowed in greeting, preparing to address His Majesty. However, before he could deliver his message, Yuuri was shoving the sad remains of a teapot into his hands.

"Hey, Gunter! You're like the smartest guy in the castle, right? What's in this tea? I think Wolfram had some, and now he's tripping."

"Hmm?" Gunter lifted it to his nose and took a deep sniff. He closed his eyes and pondered it for a while, then finally set the teapot down and said, very seriously, "Your Majesty, I'm so proud of you. Even if it wasn't with me, your loyal servant Gunter, I'm so very proud of you for having finally become a man."

"…No, Gunter, that didn't explain anything at all."

Tears watered in Gunter's eyes. "Oh! Oh, Your Majesty! You have taken the drought sacred to the Mazoku, Lust Potion #666, and Lord von Bielefelt has claimed your virginity, and now you are pregnant and shall have darling babes with beautiful onyx hair and emerald green eyes just like Henry Porter!"

"Men can't get pregnant. And who's Henry Porter?"

No answer was forthcoming from either of the room's two other occupants.

"…What the hell, you guys. What the hell."

"Yes, well… Anyway, our messenger has returned, Your Majesty. Gisela is attending to him at the moment." Gunter lowered his head to hide his somber expression as he steadied himself to be the bearer of bad news. "It… was too late. Lord Weller's group has already been attacked."

"W-well? Did Conrad drive them back?"

"Somewhat, Your Majesty. They've retreated to beyond the river, and set up camp there. However, Lord Weller is himself incapacitated."

"No! Conrad's okay, right? He has to be! What did the messenger say?"

"We know that he took a direct hit from the cannon, but all we could get out of the messenger before he fell into a shock-induced magical coma was, 'Arms, arms!' I must confess that I have no idea what that could mean."

Yuuri had no idea what that meant, either, but he resolved to find out. "We have to save Conrad from his mutations!"

If there was one person who could fix Conrad, it was Anissina, because she could fix anything as long as she had a wrench. Much as he didn't want to go into her lab, Yuuri knew he had to do it for Conrad. So he clenched his fists and stalked down the hallway to his doom.

Before Yuuri could even knock, the lab's double doors burst open with a bang.

"I've been expecting you! Come, my guinea pig – I mean, assistant." Anissina's hand shot out and gripped Yuuri's arm, dragging him into the lab.

Once inside, Yuuri wrenched away from her grip. "We don't have time for that! Anissina, you have to cure Conrad's mutations!"

"Lord Weller's been mutated already? I'd love to acquire him as a specimen, but I'm not a miracle worker, you know. I can't cure something I haven't even seen."

"But then what do we do?"

"Really, you men are all useless! The answer," Anissina said, "is to create our own super-weapon to counter theirs! Gwendal!" She snapped her fingers and motioned for her favorite test subject to come, directing him to the workbench. "Over here, Gwendal. Bend over."

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

"What? What's wrong? Don't you want to see 'Evil Maryoku-powered Butt Blaster-kun'?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

"It's probably just a misunderstanding. Gwendal, strip and show the Maou our prototype—"

"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Yuuri clutched at his hair and screeched in a most undignified way. His terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day had come to a head, and nothing could save him now. He sank to his knees, and then curled up in a fetal position on the cold floor of the lab, sobbing hysterically and babbling about all the horrors he'd had to endure. It sounded something like, "Oh-god-Conrad's-a-mutant-and-there's-gonna-be-a-war-and-innocents-will-die-and-Wolfram's-trying-to-rape-me-and I DON'T WANT TO SEE GWENDAL'S ASS!"

"Calm yourself!" fully-clothed-Gwendal shouted. "There will be no stripping or bending over!"

Still sniffling and hiccupping intermittently, Yuuri looked up and tried to brush the tears out of his eyes. With one last quiver of his lips, he picked himself up off the ground and shuffled around uncomfortably. It was an awkward moment, with both the king and the general embarrassed at their pathetic states. Yuuri felt like a weak crybaby. Gwendal, on the other hand, didn't dare tell the Maou that Anissina had succeeded in getting him to participate in her experiments today, which meant that he did indeed have Butt Blaster-kun lodged up his patootie right this minute, thank you very much.

"That's too bad," Anissina said, breaking the silence. "So you didn't drink the tea… And here I was looking to study the effects of magical male pregnancy!"

Yuuri immediately snapped his head in her direction. "Aw, hell no! Please don't tell me you're the one who's been making Wolfram act like a total creep."

"Of course not. You haven't shown any signs of returning his affections, so Lord von Bielefelt has just stepped things up a notch, that's all. Most young Mazoku go through a stage like this."

"That's not how things work!"

"Perhaps not on Earth…" Anissina shook her head, thinking all the while that it was a shame that the Maou was such an idiot. "It's unfortunate that you're not responding to his advances. After all, domestic violence is one of the surest signs of love in this world. If one of the partners is reluctant, it's tradition for the other one to brutally force his or her affections onto the resisting party. It's considered very romantic, especially if the pursuer is attractive, and Lord von Bielefelt is very attractive. Very cute."

Yuuri recoiled at this, though his mind did not keysmash in capslock this time. Instead, it functioned more like a toaster oven.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Ding~!_

"WHAT WORLD ARE WE TALKING ABOUT? WHO THE FUCK THINKS THIS IS ROMANTIC?"

Anissina raised one elegant finger. "One: fandom." She calmly raised another. "Two: fangirls."

Yuuri could only hope that he didn't end up getting raped the way Anissina obviously raped Gwendal to brutally force her affections onto him. He glared at her with as much Injustice Rage he could muster up without going supernova, and said, "Slipping drugs into my tea and taking advantage of me is not cool."

"Oh, no, that won't happen. Lord von Bielefelt would never rape you. You'll rape him! That's how fandom works."

"…But the pregnancy. Gunter said…"

She waved his concern away. "You'll both be pregnant. It's only fair if you take turns once in a while."

Yuuri frowned so deeply that he thought the ends of his lips would fall off his face. "I want to move to another series," he said. "I bet stuff like this doesn't happen in Abarenbo Shogun."

Anissina shrugged, having nothing more to say. She was more than content with her role as the resident mad scientist. Most fans were too turned off by her boobs to make her suffer too much, and that was just fine with her.

Gwendal, however, understood all too well what it was like to be someone's woobie, and the character derailment, shame, and anal probing it entailed. He also understood just how horrible canon-Wolfram must have felt right now, being trapped and screaming in a small corner of his own mind while his body betrayed him at the whims of pre-teen girls. Gwendal had lost count of all the times he'd had to be a total douche to Gunter just to provide more drama… Oh yes, Gwendal knew all about these things.

Wisely, he said to Yuuri in his deep, rumbling voice, "Never forget Rule 34, Your Majesty. Bad fics happen in every fandom, even Abarenbo Shogun."


	4. In Limbo

Turmoil at the castle prevented reinforcements from arriving in a timely manner. Those living near the border were left in limbo as they waited for the king’s men to come fortify their defenses. No one knew what, exactly, was happening to prevent the Maou from coming to their rescue. Some said their king was having a nervous breakdown, though it was all mere speculation at this time.

Thus the residents of Kentenau passed each day in a state of dis-ease, which was definitely not helped by Lord Weller’s puns about his own _diseased_ limbs, especially when they had quickly discovered that it was no use trying to burn or bury the damn things. They regenerated too quickly for it to be worth the extra effort of gathering them all up and doing something with them. As it was, they couldn’t even help that a few stray ones had ended up strewn all over town, providing nasty surprises at the most inopportune moments, like when one had to answer the call of nature and grabbed dead human fingers instead of leaves for a wipe.

No one had actually _seen_ the arms crawling out of the barn, but the popular theory was that this was because they were nocturnal.

Either way, most of the villagers were glad that they hadn’t had to hear Weller’s sad attempts at humor since the surplus of arms prevented him from speaking very clearly. His voice was usually muffled by his own excess of flesh, and it was only during mealtimes, when he made valiant attempts to rip away enough of his own arms to eat something, that he tried to cheer everybody up with his puns… which really only served to make them more depressed.

Because it was so much trouble to get him through any normal man-sized doors, they kept Conrad in a barn, rather like a pet. As Kentenau’s unofficial mascot, Conrad the one-man arm-y was often poked and prodded at by curious children. He bore this all in good humor.

Sometimes the arms got to be too much, and Conrad would rip a couple off; other times they would shed naturally as he rolled about in the hay. The sad thing was, Conrad thought, that it wasn’t even the sexy kind of “rolling in the hay”. He would have enjoyed that, but for now he was a lonely man keeping to the company of his own hands.

The floor of his barn was full of arms in various states of decay. The rotting stench made the children cry, as did the part where arms would randomly plop off as the children poked him. Conrad bore this all in good humor, too.

Sylvia, the little girl who had been very rude to Conrad, was still sad at the loss of her dog. She was also resentful towards Conrad for having killed the blueberry man that she had wanted to take as a replacement pet. She was eerily obsessed with pets, so Conrad offered her one of his arms in Mumbles’ place – the cool one that flopped all on its own after being separated from his body – but she refused. He didn’t see why… Conrad was a great pet. He played fetch and catch, could charm the ladies, and did more rescuing than that bitch Lassie had ever done. _Yuuri_ thought Conrad was a great pet. His arm would have made a great pet, too.

The situation was quite dire. (Not the pet thing, but the war thing.) Word had it that the enemy mages, still camped out right at the border due to a broken wheel on the cart carrying their precious weapon, had sent for reinforcements from Dai Shimaron. An invasion was coming. This was bad news indeed, but not something the farmers of Kentenau could really do anything about.

No, they already had their hands full in taking care of their tragic hero Lord Weller, making sure to feed and water him at least twice a day, and fervently hoping that he would recover in time to save them all. Today, they were moving Conrad into another barn because this one had filled up with arms.

Conrad tried to call out a muffled “hello” when he heard the door to the barn being opened. His caretakers had long since become accustomed to his mannerisms, so they correctly guessed his intentions and shyly greeted him in return. One of the men took one of Conrad’s right hands – Conrad could tell from the touch that it was kindly old Jeremiah – and started guiding the soldier outside. A leash was tied to that wrist, and Conrad felt the sunlight on his skin and the cool breeze blow over his palms as he was walked.

For a brief moment, he felt that perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad if he was unable to be cured. He would live a simple life surrounded by the kindness of the simple country folk. He would marry a fine young lass with poor prospects. Perhaps she would hump-backed, or blind, and they would have children who he could be there for. Unlike the way his own old man had been healthy enough to wander the world, Conrad would need help rolling out of the house on a good day…

The barn doors creaked, and Jeremiah led Conrad to his new lodgings. Inside, Conrad heard the sounds of someone laying down some hay. “There you go,” a woman’s voice softly said. It was Isabella, old Jeremiah’s wife. “I’m so sorry, Lord Weller. I wish we could offer you more, but this is the best hay we have, and I’ve laid a quilt over it this time. Please, make yourself as comfortable as you can.”

“My sincere thanks, milady,” Conrad tried to say. In truth, the sounds he produced most closely resembled “Mmm mmn-eerm ffenms, mm-mm-mm.”

“Always a pleasure to serve you, Your Excellency.” The shuffling alerted Conrad to the fact that Isabella had bowed and left. Soon, the others left as well.

Conrad thought he was alone until he heard the soothing voice of the town’s only priest. “My dear child,” Father Vincenzo said, “I have heard from Madam Isabella that you wished to see me. I know of your reputation, and know that you are a man of action rather than faith. Although I wish the circumstances that led to this had been different, it nevertheless pleases me to see you beginning to take an interest in your own spiritual well-being. Now, I believe you have questions for me?”

“Mm-fffffm-hrum-mhm!” Conrad wiggled his outermost hands in an attempt to gesture to the priest that he was having difficulties with verbal communication at the moment.

“Oh! Forgive this old man’s forgetfulness. Here.” Father Vincenzo set down pen and parchment next to the writhing ball of arms. Conrad’s hands blindly groped around until they caught the edges of the sheaf of parchment; he mapped out its dimensions and began writing.

_Will my arms go to Heaven when they die? They haven’t been baptized._

“Your arms?”

_According to Shinou’s teachings, as relayed to us through Ondine’s Scripture, souls reside within all living things, without exception._

“Yes, but your arms are not alive without you.”

_His Majesty Yuuri has brought over a sacred text from the Great Beyond called Earth, which brings many new insights to what we might consider to be alive. My arms show characteristics of “life”. They are composed of “cells”, the basic units of life, and they reproduce, albeit parasitically. When separated from my body, some of them continue to respond to stimuli, and I have been told they sometimes react violently._

“They react to – what?”

_Miss Vickers said she picked one up and it slapped her._

“Ah, well, little Daphne is getting to be of marriageable age now, and I reckon she fancies a certain handsome soldier.”

_Jeremiah also told me that he thinks they’re attracted to heat, because he always finds a pile of them in the forge the next morning if he tries to smith something at night. His wife confirms that she finds them “sleeping in the ovens”. He also thinks that they might be social creatures, who are trying to build a nest among the steel shavings._

Father Vincenzo did not know what to say.

_They like steel. There are no swords in the village besides my own, but I’ve told the others to keep knives and other sharp objects locked away just in case they… react violently._

Truly, he did not know what to say. He furrowed his brows and pondered this oddest of revelations. He kept pondering it until Lord Weller began to drum his many, many fingers impatiently against the ground.

“I don’t– My child, I’m sure you know that according to the teachings of the Great Shinou, only demons who have accepted Him as their Lord and Master shall receive the eternal happiness of Hell. And Heaven, that vile place, is reserved for blasphemers who reject the teachings of the Great Shinou or knowingly commit crimes against His Word.”

 _Yes_ , Conrad wrote, _but isn’t there a middle ground?_

“There’s Purgatory, of course…”

_I understand that’s where souls go to atone for their sins before they can enter Hell. My arms are yet innocent, like a new-born babe._

“Assuming all of that, then, your dead arms would go to… Oh, no.” Belatedly, Father Vincenzo discovered the trap he had walked into.

_Say it, please._

“Dead–” Father Vincenzo started. He paused, shook his head, and then forged on, solemnly intoning, “Dead arms go to Limbo.”

The priest couldn’t help but frown, but at least he knew Lord Weller was pleased. How could he tell? Because Weller wrote this:

_^_^_


	5. Call to Arms

After numerous delays, the people of Kentenau finally received word that Shin Makoku's army was on the march, and had with them a weapon powerful enough to counter the gene mutation cannon. The nature of this weapon was said to be so top-secret that not even the Maou knew what it was, but he had authorized it because it was the work of the great Poison Lady Anissina herself! Shouts of joy resounded throughout Kentenau and its neighboring villages when they heard.

The past few days had passed in a frenzy of action as the villagers did all they could to prepare for the army's arrival. Their best riders were sent out to survey along both sides of the road, ensuring that they would know when either side's forces were nearby. On the side leading to Dai Shimaron, they set out sandbags and broken doors as a makeshift blockade. A few detached arms wound up sandwiched in there, but that was just as well. It _did_ make the blockade appear more frightening…

Within the village itself, Conrart Weller, famed war hero and commander of the Maou's personal guard, was preparing himself also. Many people didn't understand that it wasn't merely natural talent that made him the best swordsman in the country (and arguably the world). It was also hard work and proper training. All three were necessary. He'd started honing his skills at a young age, and he'd never stopped. As such, Conrad vowed to overcome his current disability and regain his former battle prowess.

First, he had mastered chopping his extra arms off in quick succession – this was tricky because it required that he rapidly shift sword arms when it came time for the one holding the sword to go – and then he had figured out how to dual-wield sword and torch to cauterize his wounds fast enough that the arms couldn't grow back right away. It took a lot of energy out of him to perform this, though, so Conrad was still unsure of his ability to participate in battle.

That, and the arms still grew back eventually. Conrad insisted on staying in the barn for fear of another uncontrollable arm-splosion. He was never able to get rid of all of them, but these days he was down to about a single coating of twenty-something arms, which was much better than the hundreds he'd had before.

Speaking of which, the hundreds were going missing more and more often these days. Conrad would close his eyes or look away for a second, and an arm that he could have sworn was right there… wasn't. Before, he had wondered if they were crawling outside, but now he was almost certain this was the case.

It was nearly mealtime, so Conrad resolved to ask Miss Vickers about them when she came in with dinner. As he thought this, however, the door opened and the little girl from before rushed in, unexpectedly flinging herself at Conrad. "I'm sorry I was rude to you, Mr. Weller! I'm sorry, but please don't steal Daphne away!" She sobbed into his arms.

"Sylvia! Is this why you wanted to help me bring his meal?" Daphne Vickers bustled in and set her basket down beside Conrad.

"Please, Daphne!"

"Lord Weller and I have important matters to discuss, and you have chores to do."

"But _sis_!"

"Go, Sylvia."

Sylvia puffed out her cheeks, her eyes watering and looking like they would shed tears any moment now. But in the end, she nodded at her sister's admonishment and shuffled out with her head bowed.

"Please don't think too badly of Sylvia," Daphne said. She didn't meet Conrad's eyes as she laid out the food on the makeshift table. "She's been acting out like this ever since our mother died."

Conrad smiled as reassuringly as he could. "I understand completely, Miss Vickers. I was the same way after my father. I'm sure it's just a phase."

"Yes, I hope it's just as you say… Ah, I…"

"There was something you wished to discuss with me?"

"Y-yes, sir…" Daphne looked up at Conrad, then immediately glanced back down with a heavy blush staining her cheeks. "It's a-about the other day, what I told you, about how… About how I was slapped."

Conrad nodded for her to continue.

"He struck me, you see, on the cheek…"

"And for that I sincerely apologize."

"No, Your Excellency, you don't understand. I have always been a romantic fool, dreaming that someday my prince would come. And he has, don't you see? I accept the proposal! I want to get married!"

Conrad's eyes widened at her exclamation. Could it be that Father Vincenzo had been correct? Conrad had thought she didn't seem the type to take advantage like that; she had never given him cause to suspect she could have such opportunistic designs on him. "Miss Vickers, I hope you are not presuming that I wish to settle down."

"Oh, no, sir!" Daphne gasped into her cupped hands. "I would never dare! I… It's not that you are not… very dashing… But it is not you."

Conrad raised one disbelieving eyebrow. "I slapped you."

"Your arm slapped me."

Touché.

Daphne brushed aside the thick waves of her hair then, and revealed that she had a hitchhiker on her delicate shoulder. It was one of Conrad's fallen arms, and its fingers were curled around her collar to prevent it from falling off as it rode along. Daphne stroked its knuckles, and it gently flicked hers back.

They were flirting with their fingers, Conrad realized. It was quite endearing, in a horrifying sort of way.

"This is Robert," Daphne said. "Robert Weller. He says that he is one of your ancestors, or, well, was one of your ancestors. Upon his death, his soul was placed into his arm and given to Shinou – that is how the flesh was preserved for so long. Then Shinou gave that arm to you, and it was only when you started growing more arms that Robert could transfer his soul to one of those and detach himself from you. You see, Robert has been living with you for some time now, and gone on many patrols with you. One day, he… noticed me…"

Daphne blushed a bright pink, and Robert gave a thumbs up to his great-great-great-great-grandson.

"Ahem. I can see that," Conrad said. "The ar– Robert seems fond of you."

"He does, doesn't he? It's the most amazing thing!" She sighed dreamily, leaning her cheek down to nuzzle affectionately against the arm.

"And you want to marry… Robert."

"We're soulmates," she said with absolute certainty. "It's obvious that we are, since we have the ability to speak directly into each other's souls. And since you're the closest relative we know of, we'd like for you to give us your blessings."

Daphne's words had the ring of truth in them. It did make sense, in a way. Shinou liked to play these types of games, so it wouldn't surprise Conrad that the deceased Robert Weller's soul had indeed been residing in his arm the whole time. Robert had been a human in Dai Shimaron hundreds of years ago, and even Conrad had not known of him until the dead man's arm was magically attached to his bloody shoulder stump. If not from Robert-the-arm, how else could a Mazoku peasant girl have come to possess such knowledge? Still…

"You're sure of this, Miss Vickers?" Conrad furrowed his brows in concern. Daphne Vickers was a sweet, hard-working young woman. Had she been born a noble, or even a merchant's or innkeeper's daughter in one of the larger cities, there would have been no shortage of offers for her hand. But she never complained about her circumstances, no matter what they were. She mucked out her father's stables, helped rear her little sister after their mother's death, and yet never once looked at the city girls with envy.

Conrad felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that such a nice girl was now to give her hand to a hand. This guilt was almost strong enough to overpower the satisfaction he felt at coming up with another great pun. Almost.

"Do not be concerned for me, sir. Robert is very kind; he treats me very well."

As if agreement to those words, the bodiless limb on Daphne's shoulder stroked her hair, twirling one finger around a soft curl. It was this gesture that cemented the truth in Conrad's mind: Daphne and the arm were in love.

And who was he to stand in the way of true love? Conrad nodded his assent. "All right, then. I hope your union is a happy one."

_Bam!_

Daphne and Conrad both spun to face the door, with Robert still clinging to her shoulder to avoid being shaken off with the sudden movement.

"Oh god, they're coming! They've got the cannon with them! Dai Shimaron is coming!" It was one of the men sent to keep an eye on the border. He breathlessly shouted his warning to them before running off to alert the rest of the village.

"Oh, no… W-what shall we do?"

Conrad pressed his lips into a determined line. "We must fight. Daphne, help get the children and the elderly out of the village. I'll coordinate the defense."

With this said, Conrad trundled over to his sword. He thought he did pretty well this time, only losing two of the arms that had sprouted out from his legs. Once he reached the blade, he swung it down and chopped off a few more, sending blood spraying over the bales of hay. This made mobility so much easier, though he was still hindered by the woozy feeling of blood loss that always accompanied his arm-chopping sprees, and had to lean against the wall for support rather than just to look cool.

Daphne apparently didn't think Conrad was doing so well, though. She stared at him with a pained expression on her face. "Perhaps you should, um, rest up a bit more…"

"I'll be fine, " Conrad said. "It's a soldier's duty to protect civilians."

"That may be so, but—" Daphne cut off in the middle of her speech to cock her head to the side. It seemed as if she was listening to someone, though the barn was silent.

"Miss Vickers?"

She looked up and met Conrad's gaze. "Robert says he'll lead the charge."

Conrad was too stunned to protest this change in events.

The arm crawled down from her shoulder and into her arms. She cradled it to her chest while it waved its fingers about in a mysterious sign language. Then there were shuffling sounds coming from the shadowy corners of the barn, and Conrad saw movement coming from under the hay and behind the farming equipment.

An arm dropped down from the rafters and landed with a soft thud right in front of Conrad. Soon, others followed. They came from all directions; even from outside. They dragged themselves along with their fingers, wriggling across the ground to gather at Daphne's feet. She let out a shaky breath and slowly made her way outside, the arms following behind their leader – Robert.

Conrad shuffled out as well, since he was curious about the situation. Once outside, he could see more arms pouring out of the bushes, and some even peeking out from tree branches. Decaying zombie arms crawled up from under rocks, and half-chewed arms yanked themselves out of dogs' mouths.

"Everyone!" Daphne shouted. "The arms have agreed to help us! If you're able to fight, but don't have a weapon, please grab an arm!"

The villagers stared in shock. It was perhaps the largest collective jawdrop in the history of Shin Makoku. But then they spotted the shadow of a large army coming over the hill, and there was no time for further hesitation. They looked to Daphne once more for confirmation.

She gave a jerky nod. "Y-yes, we can do this! Um, t-to arms!"

The army of arms burst forth to meet Dai Shimaron's invasion force. Heh. An army. Made of arms. People using arms as arms. It was a wonderful pun.

Conrad was smiling as drew his sword and followed his arms. Behind him, the villagers glanced at each other, shrugged, and drew their arms. Literally.


	6. No Arm, No Foul

Yuuri had tried asking Anissina to let go of Gwendal, but she insisted on perfecting her new invention first. He had then said, in as stern and commanding voice as he could, "I really need Gwendal to lead my army. Can you please let him go now, pretty please?"

Having extricated the general from Anissina's clutches with his mighty kingly influence, Shin Makoku's army was finally able to roll out. The atmosphere was tense as they traveled, partly because the soldiers were worried for their commander, and partly (actually mostly) because Anissina had insisted on bringing along her "Mobile Land-Air Submarine Research Station, Ringo Around the Starrs". This meant that there was what appeared to be an RV puttering along in the vanguard. That is, if RVs were bright yellow and looked like bananas on wheels.

"It's not enough that she already made a banana boat, but now there's a banana RV? This is getting ridiculous." Yuuri absently patted Ao's mane as he resolutely kept his eyes forward. He was riding out in front with Gwendal and Gunter to either side, all three doing their best to ignore the screaming coming from inside Anissina's newest death-trap.

"I believe it's a banana RV that converts into a banana UFO, Your Majesty." Gunter also carefully kept his eyes forward.

_"BWAAAAARRGH!"_

The three of them winced in unison. Had they dared to glance at the scene behind them, they would have seen that a synchronized shiver also went through the entire army, so strong was their fear of the Poison Lady. Everyone claimed not to have any maryoku when asked, but to no avail, for Anissina sniffed out test subjects like a bloodhound on a steak. A delicious, mouth-wateringly tender steak made from the finest cut of kobe beef. Yuuri had never had kobe beef before, because it wasn't exactly a middle class thing to do to waste his entire savings account on a chunk of dead cow, but he'd seen one of his classmates drooling over the memory of eating such a steak. This was how he imagined Anissina's face to be when she was locked up all alone with a fresh test subject: depraved and lecherous like the balding, paunchy train molester in certain fetish pornography films.

…Not that Yuuri had been watching fetish porn… Well, not willingly… Murata had some strange tastes, but thinking about that now wasn't making him feel any better about the current situation, which was this: Kentenau was two full days' ride from the castle. The sun was quickly setting on their second day, and soldiers were still stumbling out of Anissina's portable lab at regular intervals, sobbing and whimpering about how they felt so violated.

"Ahem. We're getting close to the border. Best be on our guard," Gwendal said. Yuuri nodded enthusiastically at this change of topic.

_"N-no, please, no! Not there! Don't put it in—! Kyaaaaaa—!"_

"Oh god, w-w-what is that!" Yuuri felt all the blood drain out of his face as he reigned in his horse and shakily gestured for the army to stop.

There was an arm on the road.

It wasn't just any arm, either. Ooooh, no. As Yuuri dismounted to get a closer look, he could tell that it was Conrad's arm. He tried to stifle a gasp as he came to this realization. Yuuri would know Conrad's arm anywhere! Attached or severed, charred and poking out of the ashes of a church or partially decayed and being lowered into a casket and dumped into the sea, Yuuri had held Conrad's arm under all these conditions. He and Conrad's arm had been through a lot together, and it was because of this close bond they had that Yuuri couldn't bear to see the arm in such poor condition.

It looked like it had been run over by a wagon.

The poor thing… Yuuri quickly dismounted and ran up to the crushed arm. He knelt down next to the severed limb, extending his own shaky fingers to brush over the torn musculature. "C-Conrad's arm… No…" Yuuri picked it up and cradled it to his chest; he continued to stroke Conrad's arm. It was cold and flopped lifelessly, but Yuuri wouldn't let go. Strangely, the arm wouldn't let go, either.

"Wait, what?"

Yuuri blinked the tears away and squinted to get a closer look. Yup, the arm was still clutching onto his sleeve. Then it seemed to notice Yuuri's confusion and started petting Yuuri's arm as if to say, "There, there, everything will be all right."

This was far from comforting.

"A-wh-uu-aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Monster mutant arm!" He yanked the poor arm off and pitched Conrad's pitching arm. Flipping, soaring, spinning through the air, the arm smacked into a tree at the side of the road and dropped, unmoving.

"Your Majesty, are you all right?"

Sucking in a shaky breath, Yuuri turned and waved to his men. "Ahaha! Yeah, I'm fine. Um, hey, we should really get going now. Conrad might be in trouble, yeah? Ahaha…" He hopped back on his horse and fought back the urge to whistle in feigned nonchalance.

"What was that back there, Your Majesty?" Gunter asked. "I thought you saw something on the road."

"N-nothing! It was nothing, probably just my overactive imagination. You know me, right? Head in the clouds, heh…"

"Hn. I may have a… _lead_ on this 'arms' business," Gwendal said. His wrinkles twitched ominously.

"Oh dear…"

"Oh, _fuck_!"

There was another arm perched on top of Gwendal's head. And not only that, but this one was also Conrad's arm; Yuuri could tell because he would know Conrad's arm anywhere. Yuuri would have been aghast at the thought that Conrad was now missing both of his upper extremities… if he hadn't noticed this slight detail: that both this arm and the one he had abused were right arms. Something was very wrong here.

This particular arm patted the grumpy general's wrinkles with brotherly affection before jerking its thumb towards Kentenau. Gwendal frowned at the wide-eyed stares he and his impromptu headgear were receiving. "Continue the march!" he bellowed, leading the soldiers according to the arm's directions.

The scene that they arrived upon was even more wrong than Yuuri had anticipated. It was true that he had eyed Gwendal's arm-hat with suspicion during the short time it took to reach their final destination, and it was true that he knew something strange was going on involving gene mutation canons and multiple right arms, and it was even true that they had begun to hear horrifying cries of pain as they approached… But this…

Arms, arms! Shin Makoku's army stopped its march, dumbfounded.

Arm-hat hopped (more like fell) off of Gwendal and scurried over to join its brethren. It flung itself into the fray, latching onto the neck of what appeared to be a screaming Dai Shimaron soldier, though it was hard to tell with all the arms dangling from the victim's body.

There were severed arms everywhere. They grabbed onto their enemies, gripping and clawing at their faces in a way that made Yuuri flash back to that time when he had stayed over at Murata's and they watched the entire Alien series… at night… in a pitch black room… while Murata snickered and made his glasses glint evilly every time a facehugger claimed a new victim.

"So that's what he meant about the arms," Yuuri said.

"Mmm. It all makes sense now, doesn't it, Your Majesty?"

"Yeah."

"I can see why our messenger fell into a coma."

Yuuri vaguely wondered if Conrad's disembodied arms were impregnating Dai Shimaron's men with chestbursters by shoving their alien wangs down the poor men's throats. Just the thought of this gave him the shivers.

"…Me too, Gunter. Me too."

They watched as the battle wound down. There was a certain ruthless efficiency to be admired in the way the arms swarmed their opponents, tackling them one by one like army ants, er, arm-y ants subduing everything in their path. There was also something to be said in the way the brave villagers defended their home from invaders by bludgeoning them to death with whatever they had on hand – that is, hands.

"For king and country!" Yuuri heard one of the men shout before repeatedly smashing an enemy soldier in the face with an elbow. A distant part of Yuuri's mind admired his ingenuity in wielding an arm like the butt of a rifle. Little did Yuuri know that this was the start of a horrifying transition from arm jokes to butt jokes, or that he was to end up being the butt of this particular joke.

Once they had deemed it safe to wade into the mess without being swarmed by arms, Gwendal and Gunter led several of their men down to provide survey the damage and provide assistance. It was while the last of the invaders were slowly choking to death on the muddy, arm-covered ground that the hatch popped open on Anissina's banana RV. She took off her heavy-duty industrial welding mask and frowned as she surveyed the scene.

"Aww, it's over already? That's too bad. I'd wanted to test out Butt Blaster-kun v2.0. All bugs have been fixed, it has faster connection speeds and is fully wireless!"

"Butt Blaster-kun is a modem?" Could it be? Yuuri whipped his head toward Anissina, hoping against all hope that the mad scientist's secret weapon had nothing to do with that thing he had seen sticking out of Gwendal's ass, because now he remembered that Anissina had said he was misunderstanding something. Perhaps, Yuuri thought, Butt Blaster-kun just had a really unfortunate name which in fact had nothing to do with butts! The butt thing was a different invention entirely, and Butt Blaster-kun was… was a modem that sent radio waves up to a death-ray-satellite! Yes! That was it! And afterwards, they could use that technology to bring internet to Shin Makoku!

Anissina looked at Yuuri as if the king had severe cognitive retardation. "No," she said slowly, adjusting her speech to fit his special needs. "It's a super-weapon inserted into the test subject's anus. When he tries really hard to pass gas, it shoots a laser."

"I… I think I need to lie down."

Anissina convinced herself that Yuuri was just shocked at her genius. It was so simple, honestly. Everyone agreed that their king was just a tad bit strange in the upstairs department. She shook her head at his naivety. The poor Maou… She would have to teach him more of the ways of Mazoku. "Oh, no," Anissina said, "there's still much too much to be done here! Lord von Bielefelt can use Butt Blaster-kun to cremate the deceased, and then—"

"Wolfram? He came with us?"

"He was being emo, and it was disgusting. I told him it was unbecoming of someone of his station to be acting so useless, but he said, 'I've only been angsting for three chapters. It has to be at least five or people will complain about how fickle my love must be for me to recover so quickly. I'm beautiful, so I'm an uke, and ukes aren't supposed to be strong and independent people, never mind the fact that I used to be a fully trained soldier who would fry a bitch if I were ever called a wimp.' Well, I figured if he had time to mope, he had time to help me with my experiments. So that's how it was."

"Y-you mean he's been in there for two days?" Yuuri let out a gasping squeak which Anissina convinced herself was the result of his astonishment at the grandeur and ingenuity of her mobile research station's ability to sustain test subjects on an individually tailored regimen of nutrient broth and intravenous glucose for up to one whole month!

"Weeks, actually. I was using him as backup when I still had Gwendal."

Anissina unlatched the door once more and Wolfram stumbled out of the banana RV, legs wobbling and with dewy moisture brimming in his stunning verdant eyes as if spring itself were weeping. "How could you, Anissina?" he sobbed adorably. "I was saving myself for Yuuri!"

"Yes, yes, of course you were. Just think of your time with Butt Blaster-kun as practice for the real thing."

This did not console him. Wolfram's pouty lips continued to quiver like sweet delicious pudding, so wholesome and pure it could only have been made by angels using kosher gelatin.

"Then… Think of Butt Blaster-kun as a thermometer, or an anal suppository, or that no matter what happens to your body you still have a virgin soul or something along those lines. I hope you understand that my interest in you was purely scientific."

The quivering increased – increased! – until his lips wobbled like miniature earthquakes caused by the shifting of tectonic plates… on the Planet of Love! "Yuuri, my love! Will you still accept me even after I've been repeatedly gang-raped? I feel so dirty! My heart is in such pain I could kill myself!"

"Huh? But there was only one invention—"

"I had him test multiple prototypes at once," Anissina helpfully supplied. "But of course I gave him a colostomy, so as not to stain Butt Blaster-kun's various incarnations."

"Please, Yuuri! I can't live without you!" Wolfram folded Yuuri into his embrace and sobbed into his love's shoulder.

"Um, it's not really like that… I don't mind that you, ah, had to test that thing, though I'm really sorry you had to go through that, but… I don't think of you that way?"

In a sudden about-face, Wolfram's grip tightened exponentially. "…What do you mean you 'don't think of me that way'?" Wolfram pinned Yuuri down with his green-eyed gaze.

Yuuri looked around for an escape from Wolfram's piercing glare of supreme loveliness, so piercing that it was stabbing him all over with stinging thorns from the bramble bush of love, injecting love directly into his veins with the thickest hypodermic needle imaginable, drilling holes in his skull and filling it with love, sawing every one of his bones apart and stuffing his marrow with love! Such was the strength of Wolfram's loving gaze…

"Oh, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Conrad said as he came upon the scene. Ah, his little brother was being as lively as ever! He chuckled as he trudged up the hill, panting slightly and leaning on his sword. He was covered in sweat and the blood of his enemies. Several newly-sprouted arms hung limply at his sides, most of their predecessors having been ripped off by the villagers for use in the battle.

"Hey, Conrad! How are you holding up?" Yuuri quickly dashed over to Conrad's side and gave his friend a big hug. When he pulled away, he awkwardly looked down at the fluids and arms clinging to his shirt and said, "Ugh, you're all mutated…"

Little did Yuuri know that this was the thousandth time he had rejected Wolfram's advances, and the eight-hundred-and-fifty-first time he had done so in favor of hanging out with Conrad. These numbers were quite significant, for eight-hundred-and-fifty-one was far too big of a number for any Clingy Jealous Girl to tolerate. Eight-hundred-and-fifty-one! Eight-hundred-and-fifty-one times his love interest had spurned him in favor of his rival, that pun-spouting plain-ass Betty to his gorgeous, adorably tsun-tsun Veronica. And this time Yuuri had even abandoned Wolfram in his time of need to get all lovey-dovey with mutant-Conrad, who was even uglier than normal-Conrad, and normal-Conrad was already very ugly and brown! Wolfram would surely be kicked out of the Clingy Jealous Girls' Club if he didn't do something about this now.

While Yuuri was wiping his hands free of mutant-Conrad's nasty sweat, and trying to pry one of mutant-Conrad's more stubborn detached arms off of his thigh, and smacking away the pervy arm that tried to touch his butt… While Anissina was poking at Conrad with a frightening gleam in her eyes, plotting to throw him into her mobile lab for intensive "treatment"… No one noticed that Wolfram had begun to glow. The sparkles that usually gathered around him when he tossed his hair were flowing into his body; Wolfram accumulated this glow until it pulsed and throbbed forth from the core of his beautiful soul. Throb, pulse, throb, pulse, _throb_ , _pulse_ …

FWOOOSH! Flames engulfed Wolfram, and there appeared to be flaming wings sprouting from his back. An explosion of such magnitude attracted everyone's notice, and the blond bishounen was finally the center of attention, as was his rightful place.

"Oh my god!" Yuuri cried. "Wolfram's flaming!"

"He's reaching the next stage of his evolution!" Anissina frantically dug out a notebook and proceeded to scribble madly.

"Evolution? Is he becoming a Charizard?"

"Super Bishounen Moe Angel Wolfram-hime TRANSFOOOORM~!" he called out from within the searing flames of passion. The sparks of his desire burst like fireworks, searing embers of his love shooting outward to scorch the earth and tear the heavens asunder.

And when the blinding flashes died down, Wolfram's new form was revealed. His normally lithe and strong frame suddenly became so slender as to be nearly anorexic, his wrists flopped girlishly, and his already large doe-eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. He lost ten centimeters in height and went down three dress sizes. Moe Angel Wolfram-hime had also gained a new attribute that was greater than any he'd had before, greater even than bishounen sparkles. It was…

A vagina.

Yuuri flinched, expecting to either be throttled by Wolfram, or cried on. The crying was by far the worse option of the two… But neither happened. Wolfram turned toward Conrad instead.

"Even if you're my brother and you raped me because you've secretly been obsessed with my beauty for ages—"

Conrad blinked once, then twice. "I never raped you, Wolfram. I'm not that kind of man."

"—and even if you're a nasty pedophile who's trying to steal my fiancé and rape him, and even if you only see him as his previous incarnation—"

"I don't know what you've been reading, but I'm only four years older than you in human years, Yuuri and I are friends, and I'm really not that kind of man," Conrad said. He looked over to Yuuri, who nodded in agreement.

"—I can't help myself! I still love you, little big brother!"

Wolfram's magical tears sprayed outwards, accompanied by glorious pink sparkles, as he flung his head to the side and dramatically clutched his hands to his chest. The crystalline wetness considered obeying the laws of physics, but then gave a metaphysical shrug and decided to continue on its path. The droplets splattered over Conrad's battered, bloody, and generally gross-looking body. And then…

Miracle of all miracles, Conrad was healed!

He was also naked.

The crowd's attention shifted away from Wolfram Sue's ability to bear the Maou's heir (Henry Porter, who would have onyx hair and emerald green eyes) and towards the half-blood prince instead.

"But he's ugly!" Wolfram cried. "And I'm the one who saved the day! Why doesn't anyone love me?"

"Now, now," Anissina said, steering him toward her evil banana. "You should come with me to continue _treatment_. Your fandomitis is getting worse – just look at how inflamed your characterization is getting! Any further and your canon self could very well die of septic shock! And besides, female characteristics manifesting in conjunction with negative stereotypes such as physical frailty and crocodile tears, and also the propensity for your ukefied self to succumb to male pregnancy, reflects very poorly on women and is counterproductive to the goals of my feminist movement. So stop being sexist and get a move on!"

This conversation between the scientist and her patient happened in the background, unnoticed by the majority. They were much more interested in getting to the root of one of man's greatest mysteries.

"Oooh," the onlookers said in unison. Many individuals nodded in approval at the mighty pork sword usually concealed in Conrad's pants. Obviously, this was part of the secret Weller allure, they thought, or how else did Conrad manage to steal all the flashbacks and angsty backstory? Why else had their previous Maou, Lady Cheri, chosen to remain with her human consort for so long? And why had she pined for him even when he had become a doddering old man? Love was an illusion. Obviously, it was because Dan Hiri Weller was generous with his servings of tube steak, and the same could be said for his son.

Unbeknownst to the public, Conrad, their beloved national hero, wasn't as proper as he let on. Sometimes people forgot that Conrad had once been a broody emo teenager with fabulous hair, and although in recent years he had mellowed out a lot and started wearing a lot more brown, there was still that spark in him if one knew where to look. And like most other men, he had a lot of fun times with his swizzle stick. How much fun? His first girlfriend had been a mermaid, and it only got wilder from there.

In short, Conrad liked baseball. Pitching? Catching? Rounding the bases? He liked it all. In a fit of punny dorkiness, he had even named his baseball bat "Private Weller". This was hilarious because he had been a captain when he came up with that, and now he was a commander. He had never been a private, though his privates were quite impressive, haha! It was genius, really, even if no one else thought so.

Once upon a time, while he and Josak were quite drunk, Josak had tried to convince him to change the name of his wang-dang-doodle-fun-noodle to "Captain" so that if Captain Weller were ever to invite one of his subordinates down to his Netherlands to dine on a home-cooked meal of meat and two veg, they would moan out "Oh, Captain!" and no one would be able to tell which of the two captains was being referred to. Sometimes Conrad still had his suspicions about which captain Josak was referring to… Those sure were good times, though.

On another occasion, this time on Earth, Conrad had gone to Toys 'R' Us to buy a G.I. Joe action figure while Rodriguez wasn't looking. He'd taken the toy's army helmet and put it on Private Weller's head instead.

But that was all in the past. Right now, Conrad was standing before the appreciative crowd, naked and with only two arms. It was his pump-action yogurt rifle's first appearance since the whole mutant arm thing had started, and although Conrad usually didn't like to gloat about his Magic Johnson in private (haha), much less wave the flagpole around outside, he felt an odd surge of pride flow through him at once again being seen as a fairly attractive demon/human with a fairly attractive demon/human heat-seeking missile… and not a giant glob of zombie arms.

This surge of pride turned into a shiver of pleasure, and then Private Weller was standing at attention, which brought another gasp to the crowd. Being the polite man that he was, Conrad smiled and waved modestly to his admirers. And being the upright citizen that it was, his little soldier gave the onlookers a jaunty salute of its own.

"Aaaah," they said.

Later on, as King Lanzhil would sit in his throne room and receive his messenger, he would be very confused as to why the poor man kept screaming, "Arms, arms!" He would think that all his men were useless, and that he should have ridden out with them.

But that was the future.

Today, a ragtag group of peasants, led by a ball of arms, defeated an entire army. As Conrad said while still completely in the buff, "Their army was no match for our _arm-y_."

"That's really creepy," Yuuri said. "No, like, _really fucking creepy_. And can we get Conrad some clothes over here?"

But Yuuri didn't know anything. Mazoku used to do gruesome stuff like this all the time! Why did he think the humans feared them so much? And how did he think the 14th Maou, Artur von Rochefort, The-King-Who-Sewed-A-Bunch-Of-Dead-People-Together-And-Magically-Reanimated-The-Creature, had gotten his nickname?

Everyone agreed that the arm thing wasn't nearly as gross as some of the other things they'd done in the past, and they all agreed that the heroism displayed this day would forever go down in history. They all had a good chuckle at their strange king; even Conrad, whose two arms and three legs all shook with suppressed mirth.


	7. Armistice Day

It was a perfect day for a perfect wedding. The bride was stunning as she strode down the aisle, her dress flowing behind her and flowers in her hair. They held the celebration outside, and it was surrounded by birdsong and soft breezes that the young Daphne Vickers approached the makeshift altar.

As she took her place, Lord Weller, the best man and ring bearer presented, her with her fiancé propped up on the silk pillow alongside the two golden bands. One couldn’t tell exactly what sort of expression Robert Weller would have been wearing on this day if he had still had a face, but even if the details were somewhat of a mystery, it was obvious from the trembling of his fingers that he was excited to be here.

Robert had never expected to be able to get married after the events that had befallen him. In another lifetime, he’d had a wife whom he’d loved very much. But she was eight centuries dead and gone now, and afterwards, romance had been very low on his list of priorities because he was, for the most part, also dead.

“We are gathered here today…”

With the priest’s droning speech in the background, the weight of his situation truly began to sink in. Robert felt so much pride flow through him; he propped himself up as high as he could so that he could show the world his proud and handsome bearing. His cufflinks were especially nice.

Though Robert and Daphne may not have noticed it, wrapped up as they were in their own world, the guests had gotten strangely silent with the groom’s appearance. Some had taken to gnawing on their lips until they bled; others had started to sob, which, though not uncommon at weddings, seemed to be rather more hysterical than the norm at this particular event. That was how it appeared to Father Vincenzo, at least.

Being the sole priest for miles around, Father Vincenzo had seen a lot of weddings in his time – enough that he was able to recite the vows on autopilot while his mind mulled over this farcical union.

Since Kentenau was so close to the border, they naturally saw much more of the humans than most others in Shin Makoku. It wasn’t something that he would openly admit, but he never turned away the interracial couples who came to him in secret. This, however, was so far from an interracial marriage that the old priest wondered if it was all a big cosmic joke. A long time ago, during a pilgrimage to the temple, he had heard from the shrine maidens that Shinou had a very _interesting_ sense of humor. He supposed this was true.

Father Vincenzo cleared his throat and tried his best not to frown. He glanced over at Daphne, awaiting her response.

Her cheeks flushed a most fetching shade of rosy pink. “I… I do…” she softly stuttered out.

“And do you, Robert Weller, take Daphne Vickers to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Father Vincenzo directed his gaze at the groom, awaiting his response. There was a tense moment of silence, wherein all eyes were directed at the mysterious newcomer who had stolen their Daphne’s heart.

The arm flopped once on its pillow.

“…Aw, fuck it. I-now-pronounce-you-arm-and-wife-you-may-kiss-the-bride.”

Daphne’s trembling hands came up to lift her beau… Her breath hitched, and in the next second, she had brought the arm to her lips and Robert lunged forward to meet her. They collided in searing passion. Petal-soft lips against strong knuckles. Slick tongue against hard nails. The kiss was steamy enough that some of the older ladies had to look away.

Ah, youth… Father Vincenzo merely sighed and sent a secret prayer to the heavens. _Great Shinou, please bless this marriage so that I might not experience the process of going through with a limbosexual divorce._ Having sent his wish on its way, he turned to Lord Weller, thinking that he might share a sympathetic glance.

This was a mistake, for the response he got was an exact replica of the one from their last conversation. All that was missing was the parchment and the extra arms.

^_^

 

 

 

 

 

It was nice having Conrad back, Yuuri thought. Things were never the same when Conrad was away from the castle for any extended period of time. A distant part of Yuuri’s mind chimed in, saying that things would still be awkward even with Conrad around, because… the arms… Yuuri found that he couldn’t keep his eyes from flicking to Conrad’s sides, expecting extra limbs to burst out at any second.

But never mind that! Sure, the wedding had been pretty much the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, but it had been sweet in its own special way. Yuuri absentmindedly plucked a stray arm off his back and flicked it downhill, bringing his attention back to Conrad.

They stood at the foot of the small grave. Conrad was gazing somberly at the basket of raspberries laid before it. The war had been brief, and the casualties were nearly all on Dai Shimaron’s side, but even one lost Mazoku soldier was one too many.

Conrad plucked up one of his discarded arms and laid it next to the fruit so that it looked like the hand was offering them to the grave. It was a nice gesture, though somewhat ruined by the bloody smear that the detached limb left on the side of the stone.

“Mumbles liked raspberries,” Conrad said mournfully.

Perhaps there was something very profound about this point, but Yuuri was too dumb to get it. He didn’t feel like embarrassing himself by asking too many questions, but he couldn’t very well lie about understanding it, either.

Yuuri shifted on the balls of his feet. “Ah…” He opened his mouth to speak, then pulled back and bit worried his bottom lip.

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, I was just wondering what his name was. I mean, he was a very brave soldier, and he should be commended for having sacrificed his life in service to his country! But Conrad, don’t you think it’s odd for his headstone to say ‘Mumbles’?”

Conrad was silent.

The heart-breaking look on his friend’s face made Yuuri feel like he’d done something wrong, and he had to clarify. “Not that it’s a bad thing!” he said, waving his hands frantically. “I’m sure he really liked the nickname and would have liked it on his grave!”

“No…” Conrad said. His sad expression was still there, and actually even sadder, if possible. It skillfully stabbed Yuuri with guilt, slaying him more effectively than Conrad’s terrible puns had ever managed.

“W-what do you mean?”

“We didn’t,” Conrad whispered, “know his name. He always mumbled it.”

“WHAT.”

 

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile, in Anissina’s mobile lab, the greatest scientist who had ever lived had just completed her greatest medical breakthrough. She had cured a Possession Sue with the power of science! And all it had taken was a thousand volts of magically-generated electricity right to the head!

Never before had anyone, man or woman, human or demon, accomplished such a feat. Common knowledge held that once a Sue spirit entered a canon character, the only way to get rid of it was to perform an exorcism on the entire fic. Possession Sues were notoriously hard to kill, and it was even more difficult to cure one without completely annihilating the poor soul trapped within the Sue-doll. Why, anyone else would have said it was as unimaginable as wiping away the sparkling stains caused by magical healing sex with a sparkling vampire!

But nothing was impossible to Poison Lady Anissina.

“All done,” she said, unlocking the titanium manacles that held Wolfram down on the cutting board. “Take care not to let this happen again, all right? You seem to have become more susceptible to possession after that incident with Shinou. I suspect that when he first took control of your body, he made the path easier for other spirits to get in. Oh, but just in case, take these pills once a week as follow-up. Read the label for possible rare side effects.”

She tossed the small jar at Wolfram, who deftly caught it out of mid-air. In the next moment, Anissina had turned her attention back to her table full of prototypes, and Wolfram was left to his own devices. He tucked the pills into his coat, and then flexed his hands to test their strength. Yes, the power had returned to his sword arm.

Wolfram smirked. It was a devilish smirk that said, “Don’t fuck with me unless you like your ass the way you like your bacon: extra crispy.”

He and the wimp were going to have _words_. In particular, they would be having a nice chat about why Yuuri had run away from him rather than seeking a cure for his… unfortunate previous condition. As he stalked out of the lab and into town, Wolfram couldn’t help but let out a snarl as he remembered his own uncharacteristically wimpy behavior.

How could he have thrown away his pride like that? How could he have just cast away all his hard-earned skills in swordsmanship in majutsu in favor of cheap appeals at the readers’ sympathy via crocodile tears and suicide attempst? Aaaarrgh! Wolfram clenched his fists and ground his teeth so hard that it was like Bambi’s mother had died all over again, and then all the cute woodland creatures were thrown into a volcano and exploded back out, their fluffy tails and twitching whiskers now nothing but a lake of boiling lava.

He turned his sharp gaze to the stables, where a guard was caring for the Maou’s horse. The guard’s expression turned silly, and then utterly soppy as Wolfram approached. Wolfram did not appreciate the lusty gazes he received on a regular basis. While it was only natural that others find him attractive, and of course he took pride in his appearance, he objected to being sized up like a tasty little morsel of an uke-kitten who needed a hot rod of catnip shoved up his backside in order to feel complete. He had thought that he had beaten and fried this disgusting habit out of the castle’s men, but apparently he had been somewhat lax in his discipline during his recent bout of… illness.

“Where’s Yuuri?” Wolfram asked, casually kicking the bloody arm from his path and wiping his boot on the grass. When there was no response, he dug the tip of his sword into the guard’s throat and silently threatened him as to the whereabouts of his erstwhile fiancé.

Sweat beaded on the poor guard’s brow as he tried to face the anger gleaming from those emerald green crystalline orbs. In the weeks before, the guard had admired Wolfram, especially the view from behind, the pert bakery buns fresh from the goddess of love’s ovens, but now? Now he just feared for his life.

“His Majesty dove into a pool of water earlier!”

“Goddamnit!” Wolfram took his anger out on Ao’s stall, which resulted in many dents and scorch marks along the wooden posts.

Behind him, the guard sighed and thought that reality was so cruel. He wished for the return of his Lovely Angel Wolfram-hime rather than this bad-tempered manly prince who only sparkled once every hundred episodes or so.

“Ahh~, Prince Wolfram was so much hotter as a super-uke.” He really should not have said this out loud, for it only resulted in his pants being set on fire.

Well then, Wolfram thought as he firmly planted the heel of his boot down on the wailing guard’s flaming crotch, desperate times called for desperate measures. With a sadistically gleeful gleam in his eyes, Wolfram plotted to go to his mother’s room to steal a whip and corset from her infamous “toy chest”. Yuuri was just too dense to be dealt with in a normal fashion, and the wimp kept running away, too. That just meant he needed to be _tied up_.

Perhaps Wolfram could steal one of Conrad’s ugly uniforms, too, and be a cute Nazi on weekends. He had a bounce in his stride as he left to implement his new plan, leaving nothing but whimpers and barbecued testicles in his wake. And Ao, calmly munching his oats.

 

 

 

 

 

Back on Earth, Yuuri lay across the plush red couch in the doctor’s office. He sighed, brushing back his fringe and rubbing at his eyes. Yuuri gulped and said, “It was such a shock! But now I don’t know if I was disgusted at what I saw, or if I was disgusted at myself for liking it! I mean, there were all these tubes down there, and electrical things attached to his nipples, and he was giggling!”

“Perhaps it would be best if we started at the beginning, Shibuya-san.”

“I-I think I might be a sexual deviant… Ah! I don’t know if I can do this…”

“Everything you say will be absolutely confidential.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… hard to start.”

“Take all the time you need, Shibuya-san.”

“Well, Doc, I walked in on one of my friends having really kinky sex, and now I can’t stop thinking about it…”

 

 

**THE END**


End file.
